Snowed by Tahoe

March, he tells me, is one of the best times to visit Tahoe.

"Last March we got eight feet of snow. Often it snows at night, and you wake up to bluebird skies and fresh powder."

Adams can't wait to turn 21, so he'll be able to add nightclubs to his daily routine. I'm already plenty old, and that night take just a peek at one of the hot spots, Blu. Hip, young crowd. The lights and sound system are the ultimate in high-tech, the seating areas the ultimate in cool. You can chill on big exercise balls that are mounted on a metal device that turns them into chairs, or lie down propped against a headboard on a bed-like lounge that holds eight people, four facing four. Like Adams, I'm wishing I were 21. In my case, again.

Snowshoes and Chickadees

If casinos with hot clubs are your idea of nightlife, California's North Tahoe doesn't have it. But it does have a historic town, a variety of resorts scattered throughout the mountains with both indoor and outdoor activities, and a village in the valley that was the center for the 1960 Winter Olympics.

Although I highly recommend driving the entire circumference of the lake -- a drive that would take about 1 1/2 hours without stopping, which you will want to do -- it's best to settle in for the night on the side of the lake where you plan your daytime activities. That's especially true in winter, when road conditions can become hazardous.

I move to North Tahoe on the third day of my visit and head to the alpine hut of the Resort at Squaw Creek to get outfitted with snowshoes and take off from the edge of the property. Later I learn how much more adventurous I could have been on snowshoes when I talk with Layne, the Twain impersonator.

The best place to snowshoe, Layne tells me, is up Mount Rose to Chickadee Point. "Little chickadees come out of the trees and eat out of your hand, four or five at a time, or as many as your hand will fit," he says. But then again, there's a spot on Rifle Peak where you can see inside Emerald Bay and almost the entire lake. But then again, almost anywhere is good.

"I've lived here 23 years come next month," Layne says, "and every winter I come across a place that looks like no other place I've ever seen before. There are so many vistas and outlooks you can never go wrong."

Mine is a mild walk on a path along the tree line, then across a broad meadow that connects the resort to the Village at Squaw Valley, where shops and lodgings surround a gondola that climbs the mountain. It's my first time on snowshoes. Though the antique ones hanging on the wall look as if they'd require some skill and grace, the modern ones are so small and sleek that they feel no different from a new pair of tennis shoes.

Snow is falling, which is delightful until the wind begins to blow. At that point, I'm happy not to have to fight my way down Mount Rose in a near blizzard, but instead have a warm village within sight.

You could spend a few hours checking out the boutiques in the village, which includes lodgings, bars and restaurants, but I head straight for the gondola.

The ride ends at High Camp, about 8,200 feet above sea level. You step off the gondola and into an indoor area with restaurants and bars and an Olympic-size skating rink with a view of the lake far below. From here, you can catch chairlifts that will carry you to some of the 100 or so ski and snowboarding trails, or simply settle in and watch the action on the slopes from one of the restaurants with floor-to-ceiling windows.